


Freezing You Down

by infinitevariety (disapparater)



Series: Summer Omens [25]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Attempt at Humor, Hot Weather, Ice, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Prankster Crowley (Good Omens), Silly, Summer Omens (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27633292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disapparater/pseuds/infinitevariety
Summary: It's hotter than hell. Crowley tries to cool himself and Aziraphale down.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Summer Omens [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836280
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	Freezing You Down

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Summer Omens prompt ICE and originally posted [here](https://infinitevariety.tumblr.com/post/635238376151416832/ice).

It’s hotter than hell, and Crowley would know.

He’s at the bookshop, which is actually the coolest place he could find, barring the fridge aisle at Tesco. The grimy windows don’t let in too much light or heat, the bookshelves keep almost every nook and cranny in shade, and even if it _wasn’t_ the coolest place, Aziraphale is here so Crowley would be here by default.

So while it may be as hot as Lucifer’s armpit inside the bookshop, it’s still better than the heat of Lucifer’s nethers outside.

Crowley has foregone the sofa. He’s not keen on the idea of peeling himself off the leather later. Instead he’s slouched by the kitchen, hip cocked against the doorway, occasionally running his wrists under cold water in the sink.

While Aziraphale hasn’t made any comment about the heat, Crowley can see he is also affected by it. He may still be three layers deep in a velvet waistcoat, button up shirt, and vest, but Crowley can tell. Aziraphale is slightly clammy at the temples and his sleeves are rolled up to mid-forearm. Even more telling, though, is his bow tie.

His bow _untied_ , to be exact.

It’s practically scandalous and Crowley can’t take his eyes off it. Which is why Crowley also notices when Aziraphale reaches up and undoes the top button of his shirt.

Aziraphale is engrossed in the book he’s reading and completely unaware of the effect he’s having on Crowley. It almost feels like watching someone sitting there in their underwear. The urge to leap across the room and do that button up to preserve Aziraphale’s dignity is strong, but Crowley resists. Instead he chooses to feel happy that Aziraphale is comfortable enough around him to so casually become so exposed.

For some inexplicable reason, Crowley feels hotter than he did a few moments ago. He runs his wrists under the cold tap, but it just isn’t helping like it was previously. Instead he turns to Aziraphale’s outdated fridge freezer. There is always ice in there for various drinks, and Crowley helps himself.

As Crowley presses an ice cube down his throat he catches a glimpse of Aziraphale undoing yet another button on his shirt. With two buttons undone, the looseness of his collar is obvious even from the back. With his head bent forward, focused on the book in his hand, the back of Aziraphale’s shirt stands away from his neck.

Crowley looks at the space that has been created between Aziraphale’s neck and the back of his collar. Then, almost subconsciously, he looks down at the ice cube held between his fingers. He looks up at Aziraphale's neck again. He looks down at the ice cube. His gaze flits back and forth at least half a dozen times before he moves.

The arguments for and against war in his mind as he approaches Aziraphale’s back. It will cool Aziraphale down, but Aziraphale will hate it. It will be hilarious, but Aziraphale will get angry. Aziraphale will see the funny side later, but later might be in a decade or two.

He’s still internally debating, even as his hand reaches out, ice cube held aloft between his slowly numbing fingers.

In the end, Crowley’s desire for mischief wins out.

The ice cube slips from his fingers, down Aziraphale’s neck, and into the back of his shirt. Aziraphale’s cry of shock is almost lost over the sound of Crowley’s maniacal laughter. As Crowley’s arms are clutched around his middle, bent double with amusement, Aziraphale’s arms are stretched high, clutching at the back of his shirt in a vain attempt to remove the ice cube.

It’s 36 years before Aziraphale finally sees the funny side.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://infinitevariety.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
